


Inhuman

by Sylver_Midnight



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 2P America (Hetalia), 2P Canada (Hetalia), Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Cybernetics, Cyberpunk, Cyborgs, Dystopia, Eventual Romance, M/M, Rebellion, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24745087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylver_Midnight/pseuds/Sylver_Midnight
Summary: "Good morning Eimrora. As you know the Prime Minister's youngest son died yesterday morning in a freak accident regarding the destroyed CyTech center. It is with great sadness we mourn his loss, for he was one of the best of us. The funeral procession will be broadcasted at 0 900 and will be mandatory to attend. However, this tragedy will teach us a lesson about the importance of safety. The Patrol Force will update our security to ensure an accident like this never happens again. The Black Rose party thanks you for your continued cooperation, and remember: your safety and security relies on us."
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia), England/Japan (Hetalia)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 40





	1. Conspiracy

Sunlight streams in through his window and dances over the bedroom floor in soft waves. It catches on the metal frames of his glasses, still on his face from the night before. He had carelessly fallen asleep fully dressed in his work clothes. The crisp white CyTech uniform did not make for comfortable pajamas, but he had been a little preoccupied with more important matters at the time. When he does actually begin to stir, he stretches out and tries to turn over, only to be surprised by the sound of a datapad crashing to the floor.

That’s when Alfred is rudely snapped back to reality and his eyes fly open in panic. 

Oh god, he had fallen asleep in the middle of reading it. He hastily retrieves the datapad from the floor, the CyTech logo on the back seeming to glare at him. He doesn’t know if he feels guilty for taking it or not, but he has to know the truth...However, he’s not given much time to think on it as a loud knock resounds throughout the room.

“Alfred?” His brother’s concerned voice comes from the other side of the door and Alfred feels his heart squeeze in his chest. It doesn’t even look that suspicious and yet it feels like his life depends on his brother not seeing what was on the tablet. Damn, he really wishes he hadn’t fallen asleep in the middle of reading it. He hardly knows what it says. 

“Alfred are you up? Dad’s going to leave before you even get out of bed at this rate.”

“Yeah I’m up!” he says quickly, trying to keep his voice from shaking. Everything was fine. This is fine. He had just...stolen a datapad from work. Stolen a datapad from a very important multi-billion dollar company.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” He adds, hoping to deter his twin from anymore pestering.

He could practically see the frown on Matthew’s face as he contemplates this. “Alright fine. Just hurry up,” Matthew seems to start walking away, then stops, “And you better not be doing anything weird in there. I would like the house to not blow up this weekend.” Alfred laughs nervously but makes no comment. Normally it would have been funny. Today it just doesn’t feel the same.

When he’s sure Matthew is gone, he finally rolls off his bed to stash the datapad in his desk drawer and change his clothes. He pauses to watch the world go by for a moment. The back wall of his room is a single sheet of glass, allowing him to see out. Even during the day, Eimrora is a bustling neon metropolis. Everything is as it should be, and as he watches the morning traffic go by, he begins to wonder if maybe he should just forget the datapad. Return it to its proper place on Monday and pretend it never happened. It’s what he should do. The proper thing. It’s what Matthew would do… so he considers it. First breakfast, then heroic existential crises.

* * *

Matthew hadn’t been kidding; by the time he finally arrived downstairs, their father might as well have already had one foot out the door. It doesn’t come as a surprise, as Eimrora’s Prime Minister Arthur Kirkland is a busy man. It doesn’t make it any less annoying though.

Alfred blinks away the harsh glare of the kitchen lights and finds himself a seat at the table. He attempts to make himself look busy by immediately starting to eat his food. It doesn’t work and he catches Matthew staring anyway. In retaliation, he sticks his tongue out at him like any proper almost adult would. It doesn’t work though; Matthew only laughs.

“Has work really got you that wiped out, Al?” Just as he is about to answer the question however, Arthur decides he is suddenly very interested in Alfred’s existence again. 

“Yes, how is your internship going?” Alfred is never really sure if his father is genuinely interested in his work, or if he simply asks because of his personal investment in the matter. And though no one directly says it, they all know it is an investment.

CyTech and the Black Rose political party had been in a private battle with each other since the dawn of time, it felt. While Arthur seeks to control the means of cyborg production, and therefore the military, CyTech fights near constantly to stay in business. So far they have been successful, but it is a constant pain in Arthur’s side. One everyone knows he hoped to solve with Alfred’s own technical expertise.

“It’s going fine,” He says finally, stabbing at his plate. He feels somehow belittled when he talks about it. Like there is the absence of someone truly listening. Arthur simply frowns and raises an eyebrow.

“Well, I suppose that’s good to hear,” He sighs, “I’m proud of you, you know? This is a lot to take on at your age.” Alfred tries his absolute hardest not to snort.

Instead, he puts on a smile and nods, “Yeah I know. But it’s not too hard.” He tries to be patient with his father. He really does. But sometimes his words just seem so hollow...Like the ghosts of what they should be. Deep down he knows the pride isn’t real and he wishes he didn’t realize that.

Arthur disregards the comment, almost as if he hadn’t heard. He had said what he had needed to pass the good parenting test for today, after all. “Well, alright you two, I’m leaving. I’ll be out late so please try not to-”

“I thought your boyfriend was coming over tonight?” Matthew interjects and Alfred nearly chokes. Arthur doesn’t seem to find it quite that funny as his face has gone bright red. Either out of anger or embarrassment.

“We have been over this,” He says, voice shaking. It’s clear he was containing his anger. “Kiku- Grand Marshal Honda and I are not dating. He is a friend. A good friend with whom I work closely,” He adds shortly. He seems to be done with the conversation and moves back to his previous topic.

“Now as I was saying. Please try to behave yourselves while I’m gone.” He looks pointedly at Alfred, who simply nods, eager to get away from the table and back upstairs to the datapad. His wish is granted as the sound of the front door sliding shut fills the room. 

He gets up to leave immediately but Matthew stops him with an offhanded question, “I’m not wrong right? They’re totally dating?”

Alfred has to actually stop and consider this for a minute. Kiku is technically a ‘family friend’ or a ‘coworker’ in his father’s words. But it was always a little more than that. He spends a lot of time in the house, including family dinners and holidays. And Alfred has to admit the two did tend to spend a lot of time alone...He just doesn’t like to think about it too much.

He had done a lot of research on the Grand Marshal and what he found hadn’t been too pretty. Mysterious disappearances. Cyborgs in his unit bearing resemblance to missing or arrested loved ones. It was all so sketchy and it made him uncomfortable to be seated at a table with him.

“Yeah…” He says finally, though he doesn’t like that that is the undeniable answer. “It’s kind of weird though.” He hopes Matthew would agree with him about this, “I mean does he creep you out at all?”

“Who, Kiku?” Matthew asks, seeming to be confused, “Not really no. Dad trusts him enough to let him in the house. And he’d never let us get hurt.” He says with a smile, “You worry too much, Al. Dad wouldn’t let someone hurt us.” That’s the answer Alfred had been afraid of. Because now he can’t tell if he was right or just paranoid.

But instead of delving further into the subject he just smiles and nods, acting as if all of his fears are calmed. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sure there’s nothing to be worried about. If you need me I’ll be in my room.” It is a short excuse to rush from the room, and he did so so quickly that he doesn’t catch his twin’s concerned look.

* * *

When Alfred finally returns to his room, he makes sure to lock the door behind him. Whatever is in that datapad was bound to be bad, and just holding it in his hands makes him feel sick. CyTech is the leading force in cyborg production and technology. His whole life he had been curious about those things. Wanting to help others through mechanics and solve problems with complex coding. That’s what he had thought he was doing with this internship.

But the longer he stayed and the more he looked, the more uncomfortable he became. The cyborg initiative program was supposed to be volunteer only. As far as he knew it was but...He knew for a fact the volunteers were being lied to. Some were sick, hoping for a chance at new life by having their failing biotic parts replaced. Some were simply curious. A vast majority were there to enlist in the military.

Every single one of them was told the same. That the procedure would not result in a loss of free will or memory. Alfred had repeated that so many times to so many different patients he had lost count but...He had begun to doubt the truth of it. When the patients returned they were never the same. They acted as if...They were acting as themselves. A crude mockery. Sometimes even that was too much and they would return completely lifeless. A machine inside a less than human body.

And that was something he had never signed up for. He had never wanted to hurt anyone. Never wanted to control them. He didn’t want his skills to be used for that. He wanted to know the truth. The people deserved to know the truth, and someone was determined to keep it from them.

As the datapad flickers to life, he forces the worry down. But it only grows as he begins to flick through it. Designs, plans, logs. Everything seemed to be parts, and logs of their purposes. His eyes narrow and his brow furrows in confusion as he stops on a particularly important looking piece. According to the log it is centrally located in the patient’s brain and...And there it is. The confirmation that none of the cyborgs, Patrol Force units and otherwise, had free will.

Alfred places the datapad on the bed face down so he could for a moment longer ignore the truth. He places his head in his hands and takes a deep shaky breath. How far does this run? CyTech knows. His boss, Francis Bonnefoy can’t be trusted then. Kiku is the Grand Marshal. Leader of the military and the Patrol Force. He knows of course too and he can’t be trusted. His father...He fights back the terrified squeak that tries to raise in his throat. His father has to know. He can’t trust him either. That left only one person...Himself.

He timidly tips the datapad back over, trying to find something- Anything- that he could do to help. After a moment of searching his eyes land on a small address at the bottom of the screen. A CyTech warehouse...Where the majority of this particular part was kept. If he were to destroy it...How many people would he be saving? Would it make a difference?

He finds he hardly cares. Saving one person would be enough. Saving one person would make him a hero.

* * *

The rain comes in harsh sheets. Beating against his face and hands, sinking below his skin to reach his bones. His entire body shakes and he grips the lighter in his hand just a little bit tighter, his thumb sliding across the smooth surface repeatedly. He hopes it will bring a little comfort but it does not. It’s an old model. The kind no one uses anymore. But it is enough to get the job done and now the flames are so bright and so hot the rain can’t hope to put them out.

They roar loudly in his ears even though he’s now a safe distance away. It’s enough to cover the small gasping breaths that come from him as tears slip down his face. They mingle with the raindrops on his cheeks and you can hardly tell they are there at all. He scrubs at them anyway, feeling an immense disgust at himself for feeling so regretful and scared. He meant to set the warehouse on fire after all. He had 

to destroy it and everything it housed. So that they couldn’t be used to hurt anyone else. But he had to admit that he hadn’t considered the consequences.

He’s jolted out of his thoughts by a familiar calling his name. 

He whirls on his heels and wishes he can say he looked into a familiar face. Kiku isn’t someone he is supposed to fear. Grand Marshal or not he is supposed to be like family. Someone who always comforts him with a smile when he walks in the door, and sometimes even laughs at his jokes. This isn’t the same person though. This is a man with a job to do, who did not feel remorse about doing it.

He doesn’t stop to consider that he had not heard the Patrol Force arrive. That there had been no lights or sirens. He doesn’t worry that no one will know what happened here tonight. He shouldn’t have to be afraid...

Instead Alfred weighs his choices. He could run. He’s more than certain he would make it to the road and Eimrora’s brightly lit streets. From there he could possibly slip into an alleyway or blend into a crowd of people. But Kiku had two patrol officers with him. Advanced models too. There wouldn’t be any escape from cyborgs like that.

“Alfred.” The Grand Marshal’s voice comes kinder now. No doubt trying to appeal to him. He must realize how terrified he is. Yet he can’t bring himself to run. Surely it would be alright in the end. His father would be angry of course but...It would be alright. He’d gotten second chances before. One foot in front of the other he approaches Kiku and the officers. 

The moment he gets close enough however, it all goes wrong. Kiku takes a step back; panic swells in Alfred’s chest like a cry of warning. But it’s too late, the officers are already on him. Using a harsh mechanical grip to pull his arms behind his back, surely leaving bruises in the process. The lighter is forced from his hand and he hears it clatter against the soaked pavement. He tries to pull away only once before realizing just how impossible it is. A seventeen year old child, no matter how strong, could never overpower the military’s perfect soldier.

* * *

The entrance to the transport looms like the maw of some terrifying beast he would read about in his history book. He doesn’t want to go in, but he doesn’t have a choice. At least now he gets to sit. Though the deafening silence, aside from the dull hum of the engine, makes his stomach twist in knots. Kiku sits across from him, expression unreadable. The helmet he wears is designed for that. So only the bottom half of his face can be seen, so that very few traces of emotion could really escape it. Alfred had always been afraid of it. Now however it feels a thousand times worse.

Alfred only lasts a few minutes without speaking. The silence breaks him apart from the inside out. Guilt and fear worming their way through the cracks.

“Where are we going?” He tries keeping his voice steady and firm. To fill them with authority the same way his father does. It doesn’t work though, because he’s trembling like a leaf and his words mimic this. The dull blue lights of the transport interior cast strange shadows on the dull walls and he focuses on them instead.

He feels Kiku watching him for a long moment. Perhaps debating whether the question deserved an answer. Alfred doesn’t have to see his eyes to know there’s no pity in them.

“That information is classified.” He says finally. It seems that’s all he has to say, and if Alfred had only left it alone things may have gone better. He knows he should keep his mouth shut but he can’t. He forces himself to mask his fear. To hide behind entitlement and bravery.

“You’re lying,” He snaps stubbornly, “We’re going home. My father-” Those are the worst words he could have spoken because he soon finds himself knocked to the side, his left cheek stinging harshly.

He had been hit. Kiku had slapped him. Kiku Honda had slapped the Prime Minister’s son. 

“You don’t get to speak of your father.” His tone holds anger and yet it still holds dignity. Somehow that rage is collected. Unlike his own that boiled over and made him irrational… “Do you have any idea what you’ve put him through tonight?”  
Alfred does know. He knew from the start exactly what he’d set out to do. The information he’d stumbled across had just been too much for him. He couldn’t sit by and do nothing while CyTech and the government- his father- took people from their families. In fact just looking at the officers on either side of Kiku made him sick. Had they been willing? Or had their rights been taken from them against their will like so many others?

But in reality he hadn’t stopped to think of how that would affect his father. He found however, when he did think about it, that it only made him angrier. His father had no right to claim what Alfred had done with wrong. Not after the things he had allowed to happen, had 

to happen, right under the public’s noses. 

“It doesn’t matter!” He spits back, eyes full of anger and a sort of disparity. Someone has to see he was right. He was right! “The parts in that warehouse were going to be used to hurt people! My father is wrong! CyTech is wrong! And you’re wrong too! I don’t care what my father thinks...I did the right thing! I’m a hero!”

“You’re a child.” The retort is blunt. Full of anger and disgust yet still perfectly even in tone. “You are a child and you’re acting the part. What you did was destroy people’s livelihood, their hard work. What you did is worry your father so much that he called me personally to collect you. What you did, Alfred Kirkland, is disgrace and dishonor yourself in the eyes of the public. And you have brought the same down on your brother and father.”

He wishes he had a response. Anything he could say to tear the argument down but the confidence with which every word is spoken catches him off guard and he can think of nothing else to say. 

“So for the rest of this trip you will sit there silently. And you will not speak another word about the man who has so kindly taken pity on you. We both know I wouldn’t have.”

And that is exactly what Alfred does. Because for once he can’t find his power to argue.


	2. Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: At one point Alfred pretends to slice his palm on a piece of broken glass. There is no real injury purposeful or otherwise, but if you'd like to skip it's not a very important part.
> 
> Also in this chapter a character is introduced by the name of Alex. For anyone confused or curious he's 2p America.

The building at which they arrived was in no way comforting and as soon as Alfred stepped out of the transport he knew something was wrong. He had never been here before. He’d never heard of this building before. It’s walls were stone grey, reaching several stories with small black windows. Though it was tall it did not compare to the impossible skyscrapers that were the norm for Eimrora. It was as if it was trying to hide amongst them, slip through the cracks unnoticed.

He remains between the two patrol officers, each with a hand on opposite arms to keep him from pulling free and escaping. As they pass through the doorway he feels his blood run cold. The black rose emblem glared back at him from above the heavy metal doors. This was most likely a prison then. And yet that still didn’t feel right. It still felt off.

He had seen prisons before. Always accompanied by his father of course but they were always different from this. Standing equal in height to the buildings around them, usually brightly lit and made of the same metal as most other buildings. This was something they were trying to hide.

Kiku made no further comments as they entered the building and Alfred knew better at this point than to ask the questions swirling in his mind. He should have known better than to trust him in the first place but Matthew’s words had come back to him in the moment. He had so badly wanted to believe they were true.  _ Dad wouldn’t let someone hurt us.  _ Would he though…? Because he was beginning to doubt the sincerity of his brother’s words.

As they walk through the building’s lobby he makes note of everything he sees. Five or six patrol force officers like the cyborg’s at his side. Two or three human operatives it would seem. They made their way to the back of the small room where a large metal elevator was located. 

Once inside Alfred expected to go up but Kiku leaned forward and pressed a button, and with a small shudder the elevator started moving down at a disorientating pace. The lower levels were nothing like the upper ones. It’s devoid of windows down here. The walls, the floor, the doors, everything is blindingly white. The fluorescent lights reflect back into his face and he has to squint in order to see in front of him as they walk down the long stretching hallway

There are even more cyborgs too. Not a single human however and Alfred finds that a little odd. Wasn’t it the law that there was at least one human for every three? Just to be safe…? That didn’t seem to apply here though. Individual cells lined the walls and every so often there was another guard placed. Staring straight forward as if looking into an endless void.

Eventually they reach an apparently empty cell and Kiku gestures for one of the officers to open it. So Kiku didn’t have his own card? That was...Interesting. Concerning too. He was pushed, not at all kindly, into the room after the door slid up. 

“Wha- Hey!” He turns to Kiku with silently pleading eyes. Hoping despite what he’d been told he would receive mercy. “What’s going to happen…?” He didn’t want to seem scared but he knew Kiku could already tell. Maybe that would get him a real answer? He just wanted to go home. He wanted to hug his brother and never let go again. He’d be sneakier next time. He’d never do anything this big again. He just wanted to be safe.

The Grand Marshal just tilts his head to the side in an almost mocking expression, a laugh breaking his features. It was very nearly hysterical, as if he found the situation truly funny. “Alfred...You’re more naive than I thought. What do you think they do with traitors?” With that the door slammed in his face blocking off contact with the world.

Simplistic would have been a compliment to the room Alfred now found himself in. It was very clearly a cell. With the same bright white floors, walls, and ceiling. The only difference was that the fluorescent lights were a neon blue and lined with even spacing along the walls. There was built in bench at the back of the room, a small grey blanket folded at one end. He supposed this was supposed to double as a bed. Upon closer inspection he found the cell to be nearly air tight. There were no vents. Instead along the edge of the floors were small holes drilled into the floor, obviously to deliver proper air flow to the room.

But nothing he could work with to escape. He was brilliant, and that wasn’t just his ego talking. He knew he was smart but he didn’t often talk about it. Sure, his father wanted smart children. But Matthew fit that expectation better. Alfred had technical skills. Machines. Computers. But what did that matter if he couldn’t get himself out of this situation?

He’d gotten himself in a real mess this time and he wasn’t sure how he was going to get out of it or if he could. Tears sting at his eyes and he furiously tries to blink them away only succeeding in making them fall faster down his cheek. Angrily he wipes them away but it’s no use. His body has gone back to shaking and he is forced to admit that he’s deathly afraid.

Kiku’s words repeat over and over in his mind like a warning. What happened to traitors? It couldn’t be what he thought right? His father would never let that happen to him. Surely not. Then what? Why couldn’t he just go home now? For a moment he just sits on the bench, head in his hands to block out the light. His body shakes as he lets out the sobs he’d been holding in.

Eventually though he furiously wiped at his face again and tries to get himself under control. He couldn’t waste time like this. He couldn’t stay here. He had decided before leaving the house that he could trust no one but himself. In the heat of the moment he had fallen for the comfort of familiarity but he couldn’t afford that now. If he stayed here something bad would happen. He was unsure of what but he didn’t want to find out. He couldn’t rely on his father to come for him. He couldn’t rely on anyone. That was a cold truth to realize but it would do him no good to continue crying about it.

What he’d told Kiku was true. He was a hero. He had saved people and no matter what anyone said that was the right thing to do. He couldn’t let himself fall into regret but he couldn’t allow himself to be punished either. That would defeat the purpose of all this. The truth had to get out. The cyborgs weren’t what people thought. Perhaps they even could still be saved. He wouldn’t be able to answer that from here.

So he wipes his eyes a final time and starts to come up with a plan to escape. He goes back over in his mind everything he had seen on the way in. The cyborgs were the only ones down here with him that he’d seen. They took direct orders from humans though. So without those orders...They were bound to become confused right? If he could find the central computer down here then he could disrupt the signals they were receiving. Effectively giving them free will for a moment. The only problem however was getting out of here.

As he glances around the room again, a slight grin starts to spread across his face. Oh this would probably not work, and it would require a little acting, but hopefully it would work. He stands from the bench and stretches slightly. Then he makes his way over to one of the lights set into the wall. He presses his fingers against it testing the strength. Maybe...Just maybe…

Without giving it too much thought he pulls back and delivers a swift kick to the glass encasing the bulbs. Besides a sudden throbbing pain in his leg, nothing happened. Setting his face in concentration he tried again. Still nothing, though the glass seemed to wobble slightly in place. He frowned and huffs in frustration “Come on.  _ Break!”  _ He hisses and sent his foot harshly into the glass for the final time.

A satisfying shattering sound rips through the silence and for a moment he stares in astonishment before moving on to phase two. The actual acting. And eliciting sympathy from something without feelings. 

He took a deep breath and let out the most convincing wail of pain he’s ever attempted. “Please! Someone help!” He cries, summoning the tears from before to make his voice more convincing. “I need help I cut myself!” At first it didn’t appear to be working so he took it up a notch. “Uh...Uh...There’s blood everywhere!” he says dramatically. God if this was a human no one would believe him. There’s only a slight shuffling outside the door. Voices maybe? Come on just open the door… “Uh...What to say...Oh! I think I may be dying!” he adds helpfully.

Luckily the cyborg wasn’t able to see his face. They were exceptional at detecting lies. Something about analyzing facial patterns and heart rate. It wasn’t foolproof but they wouldn’t have come in if they suspected he was lying. The door lock clicks and one of the officers enters the room.

If Alfred didn’t know any better he would say he was concerned. Maybe he was. Alfred honestly didn’t know. He just knew they weren’t freethinkers like they should be. As the cyborg gets closer he holds his hands closer to his chest. Baiting him closer. This was only phase one of the escape and it had to go off seamlessly in order to get to phase two and then three. If not he wouldn’t get another chance.

Finally the officer got about as close as he seemed like he was going to get and Alfred pouts slightly, trying to be convincing. “You cut yourself?” the officer asks skeptically. He was clearly surveying the damage and the shattered glass around his feet. Had he noticed the clear lack of blood? Oh he hoped not. 

He nods in response, looking over the man’s armored shoulder to the doorway. He’s shocked for half a second as he meets a pair of curious violet eyes. Another officer? Just as soon as their gazes met the other turned away again quickly retreating. Why did he look so familiar? If only he had gotten a good look at him.

He turns his attention back to the officer in the room with him and sucks in a breath. This would be the hard part. He offers out his right hand for the cyborg to examine. It was clearly free of injury which seemed to confuse him greatly. He took Alfred’s hand in his and looked it over nervously. Trying to find some proof that coming in here was a mistake.

While he was distracted however Alfred uses his left hand to relieve the key card from the officer’s belt. He manages to slip it into his pocket somehow unnoticed and he lets out a breath he hardly knew he’d been holding. Meanwhile the cyborg drops his hand and glares at him.

“You’re not bleeding. Your vitals are stable. Don’t do that again.” he says sternly and Alfred simply smiles up at him and nods.

“Yeah sure. I guess I just got scared.” His smile was so blinding it hurt. But this is how he would get out of here. Play the part. Be the idiotic naive boy Kiku thought he was and he might just survive this mess. He would show him in the end. He would show all of them.

The guard gives him one last look as he left the room and Alfred silently cheered to himself. He’d done it! He was sure that had been the hardest part. He was confident in his coding abilities, phase two would be easy. Phase three may be a bit harder, but if he ran fast enough it would work out.

He was just glad that the cyborg’s programming hadn’t accounted for accidents involving dumb children punching lights. Otherwise it wouldn’t have worked. Though he did feel kind of bad, no one should be that easy to fool. He grips the card a little tighter in his hand. He would save them. Every last one of them.

He just had to wait for a shift change. Cyborgs didn’t need sleep or food like normal people. But entering a sleep state was the fastest way for them to recharge, and food was provided for normalcy’s sake. So eventually there would be a moment where he was left unguarded while they switched out.

He made his way over to the door and sat down with his back to it. From there he began to count seconds.

It wouldn’t be long now. He was going to get out of there.

* * *

The moment came an hour and a half later. The shuffling of feet outside the door and hushed voices could be heard, and then silence. Alfred opened his eyes slowly, counted five seconds of silence before taking a deep breath and standing. He placed the keycard against the lock and waited with baited breath for the small click that would signal his freedom. It felt like an eternity but eventually it does happen. The door slides open with a hiss and Alfred blinks as he steps out into the harsh light.

The hallways were empty and he didn’t really know if he was headed into more danger or less. But he chose the most likely direction and started running. He didn’t have much time.

The entirety of his plan was actually rather simple. He would log into the computer when he found it, and use his knowledge of the cyborg programs to disrupt the part inhibiting free will. This would cause the ones linked to this particular server to be left as...Well not really human like. But free to make their own decisions for the first time in years. There would be mass panic, and in that panic he would escape. It was a perfect plan really, if he could pull it off.

It takes much longer to find the server room than he would have liked. It was nearly a maze down there. But he still somehow manages to find it before guards return to their post. No doubt this room would have at least two. He ducks inside before they return and releases a shaky breath. Phase two was almost complete. He was so close to freedom, he could practically taste it.

The server room was simply a few computer towers crowded against one wall, their soft hum and glowing lights filling the room. The main feature however was at the very back. A desk featuring a wall of probably eight or nine different screens. Each out to accomplish its own task. Most were displaying strings of code and commands, most likely programming for the cyborgs.

He couldn’t make any permanent changes to them from here. Each individual unit was their own walking server and database. Their programming was inside of them, so to truly break one free he would have to sit down with them and probably put in hours of work. If it could even be done that is. But from here he could access temporary commands. If he gave a command for a certain part to disconnect it should theoretically disconnect. Just not permanently as it could just be switched back on again later. Probably sooner rather than later, he would have to be quick.

Alfred sits down at the desk, eyes gazing up through his glasses at the screens who dwarfed him in size. He felt tiny, insignificant, and afraid. But what hero didn’t? He could do this. He had to. The code wasn’t unfamiliar. CyTech had taught him all the basic codes and the stolen datapad had taught him the code for the mechanics he was going to be targeting. 

It was more a question of could he learn where and how to put the codes in before it was too late and he was caught. Undoubtedly the guards were back at their posts by now. So without hesitation his hands fly over the keys. The lights of the screens flicker, filling the room with an eerie green glow.

Over time patterns began to leap out at him. He began to take in the chains of information he needed surprisingly easily. Soon enough he had everything plugged in the way he needed it. His fingers hover over the confirmation key, eyes never leaving the screen.

“It’ll work.” he tells himself quietly. “It has to work.” His attempt at hyping himself up didn’t work out too well but he didn’t have more time to waste, so he brings his finger down hard on the key with a satisfying click.

Almost immediately the screens began to glitch. Flashing color of red, blue, white, and bursts of static. The code had taken he supposed but then- Suddenly an ear piercing alarm began wailing throughout the building and Alfred’s face drained of color. He had wanted a distraction but he wasn’t sure if this was the right kind.

The code worked though. He was sure of it. He just had to be brave enough to take the risk and step out the door.

He was on his feet again in seconds, and when the door did open he was ready for a fight. Though he knew he’d never win against hostile cyborgs he didn’t want to go down without a fight a second time. If he was going to be treated like a traitor he might as well act like one he supposed.

Instead he was met with the terrified face of a young woman. She looked to be in about her mid to late twenties but with cyborgs you couldn’t really tell. They were almost entirely made up of heavily armored machinery, even most of their heads and some of their faces were obscured. Military units specifically used these features to upgrade their senses. 

She looks at him without anger, and without hostility. Simply terror and confusion. Alfred supposed it must be like waking up from a nap you never realized you were taking. No memories of who you are. Who you’re expected to be. Cleansed of an identity and assigned a number. Given crude constructs of feelings just so you could be happy following orders…

There’s a man beside her but he’s not paying attention to Alfred at all. He’s curled on the floor, hands over his head. He appears to be sobbing but Alfred knows they can’t cry. It was an unnecessary function.

Sparing them one last glance he sprints off towards the elevator and to freedom. The alarm is still wailing. Most likely not from Alfred’s escape but from the breach in protocol. Rogue cyborgs were dangerous. Everyone knew that. When one malfunctioned or went rogue it was set to be terminated. For their safety and the safety of others. It was considered the humane thing to do. He just hoped that’s not what would happen here tonight. Not when they could all be easily reprogrammed and put back in working order again.

The closer he got to the elevator the more chaotic things seemed to get, he took notice of a few human patrol officers locked in near combat with one of the guards, the poor cyborg seeming confused yet angry over his situation. Alfred had to fight down the urge to turn back and help him.

Instead he slid into the elevator, releasing a shaky breath and taking a moment to collect himself as the lift hurtled upwards towards the ground floor. He’d thought everything was going well. Until the sounds of gunfire could be heard before the metal doors even slid open. His heart froze in his chest, his blood running icy. Gunfire. People were getting hurt. Possibly dying. Because of his actions of all things.

As the doors finally open on the scene however much of the guilt is absolved. He’s reminded again who’s fault this is, and why he was doing this. The cyborgs never set out to hurt anyone. They were frightened, hurt, but most of all in this moment they were fighting for their freedom. The Patrol Force, the government, and CyTech, were all keeping that from them. That’s why he had to get out of here, so he could fix this world his own family had helped build.

So he ran, ran like he never had before so he could clear the room safely, break free of the doors into the street. Unfortunately that’s not what happened. Instead just as he was nearing the exit he was met with a resistance not unlike a brick wall. Except brick walls didn’t stumble backwards in shock and surprise. When he looks up he’s met with the same familiar violet eyes. 

Only this time they stare at him with wide shock and not just a dull curiosity. He still can’t remember in that moment why he felt like he knew the cyborg. He was also sure the other didn’t recognize him either. So for just a second more they stare at each other, Alfred’s eyes glancing to the Black Rose emblem above where the other’s heart should be. The number there read 1917. But that’s all he would get to know. That and the sound of the other’s voice.

“Duck-” He doesn’t know why he listens but he does. He ducks past the other, turning to see why he’d been warned and it takes a moment for him to register that Kiku had been behind him at all. When he does though he immediately back steps away. Not that was necessary as the cyborg's fist promptly collides with the Grand Marshal’s chest causing him to stumble backwards and momentarily forget about Alfred entirely.

The blow could be passed off as an accident. The cyborg appeared to be aiming for Alfred, hitting the Grand Marshal was a mistake. But as Alfred blew through the doors and out into the shining glimmer of dawn the word duck replayed over and over in his mind. That cyborg had saved his life, and he was positive neither of them knew why.

* * *

Soon that glimmering dawn gave way to midday, and from there dusk. It was almost always cold in Eimrora. She was a towering city, and though beautiful in all her neon glory, she was not very kind. Alfred had never been this far in the lower levels before. Everything was bright and wondrous, but in a dingy sort of way. The people were interesting, but not the type you wanted to talk to.

Most wore masks to hide their faces. Bounty hunters, thieves, hackers. Alfred found the idea to be interesting, remembering rumors from his early childhood about an underground rebellion. But these people were far from kind, and the shops lining the sides of the streets, though brightly lit and selling all manner of things, did not look very inviting.

As night fell however he was forced to pick the safest looking one and ask for help. At the counter sat an old woman, and he decided to ask her first about finding a room for the night nearby.

“Um...Excuse me?” He’d never felt this nervous asking for something in all his life. “Do you know where I could find a room for the night? Uh...Somewhere that I could pay in the morning.”

The woman looks up from her newspaper, fixing her gaze on her. Alfred took note that one of her eyes was cybernetic. She studied him for a moment, and shook her head disapprovingly. “How old are you? Fifteen?”

Alfred frowns and crosses his arms over his chest “Seventeen.” he corrects.

“And let me guess. No money?” he shakes his head embarrassed.

The woman sighs heavily and gets out an old fashioned notepad and pen from her counter drawer. The kind with real paper you could tear off. “You’re going to want to go to this address. Talk to a man named Yao Wang, not one of his brats they won’t know what you’re talking about, you talk to him specifically, and ask for a man named Alex.” she says as she writes down the address. “Bleeding heart that one, but he’ll find you work and give you a place to stay.” she adds as she hands him the sheet of paper.

Alfred smiles in relief as he takes the address from her “Thank you.” he says cheerfully. But she was no longer listening.

* * *

Yao Wang turned out to own one of the shops down the street. By far the nicest and safest looking one at that. He was a nice older man, with a couple of kids running around the store at his feet. He left to get whoever Alex was about ten minutes ago now. And though Alfred was nervous still he now had had a hot meal and felt relatively safe. 

It was only another moment or so before Yao returned, another man with him who Alfred presumed was Alex. Alex approached the small bench Alfred was seated on and offered him a smile. He was one of the few people Alfred had met so far that didn’t feel the need to completely hide his face.

Yet most of it was still easily obscured by the baseball cap he wore and the large collar of his jacket. Even still though he seemed kind, and the fact that Alfred was able to see his eyes was a comfort. He had never realized how much you could tell from a person from their eyes. Not until he had been unable to see Kiku’s.

“So you must be Alfred?” Alex asks cheerfully. “Is it just Alfred or-?”

Alfred debates this a moment before coming up with a name on the spot. “Jones. Alfred Jones.” he says decisively. That was a common family name right? 

Alex doesn’t seem to care if it is or isn’t. The man had an interesting presence about him. A feeling of ease and safety even just for a second and it was comforting.

They talked a bit more, working out how Alfred could pay rent after the first month and what kind of work he’d be able to do. Eventually it was decided that Alfred would most likely be doing mechanic work. Repairing cybernetics for people who couldn’t afford professional shops, or CyTech repairs.

In all honesty Alfred was happy about this. He was giving a real chance to help people and that meant more to him than anything else.

Eventually they said goodbye to Yao and Alex showed him the apartment he’d be staying in. It wasn’t anything like home, but Alfred liked it anyway. It was safe. It wasn’t prison or the streets.

“There’s not a lot of rules.” Alex says as he hands him the keys, “Just...Don’t do anything stupid okay?” Alfred swore there was something in the way he looked at him. Something deeper than just the simple kindness of the action. It wasn’t malevolent. Just somehow knowledgeable.

He closes the door behind him though, too tired to think on it more right now. Before crashing however he knew he should probably take a look at the computer the apartment had come with. Alex had claimed someone that lived here before had left it. Meaning it may be unsecured.

However as soon as he powered it on he was greeted with a message notification on an otherwise completely wiped computer. He frowns slightly at the oddity of it, and that frown turns to pure shock at the senders ID.

The contact was already logged into the system, simply as Drought. But there was significance in the name. A famous hacker working, allegedly, with the underground rebellion. It had to be a coincidence he thinks tiredly as he clicks to open the message. What he found would still feel startling years later. The moment the first flickers of hope came back into his life.

  
  


**_Dear Alfred Jones,_ **

**_Welcome to Empath._ **

**_\- Drought_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading or returning. Remember to leave any comments, suggestions, or questions you have.
> 
> Thanks again to Disappointingcurveball for beta-reading and for his interpretation of 2p! America.


	3. Second Chances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No TW for this chapter but a fair warning there is a considerable time jump from the last chapter and the first half is from Ivan's POV.

The world flickers, swims before his eyes. There’s a thousand error signals running through his brain, one after the other telling him things were not functioning properly. It is painful when he opens his eyes. That is the first thing 1917 realizes about reality without orders. It hurts. A lot. But he manages to steady himself, taking one deep breath after another, and then forcing himself to sit up.

His body protests audibly, the groan of metal fills his ears and he winces slightly. Something had happened...Something had gone wrong. But he couldn’t exactly put together what. His last memory was of a few days earlier. A standard mission, nothing had happened. But it was clear he’d been damaged. The last time he’d felt like this was…

Two years ago. It had been two years ago when he’d saved the blue eyed boy. He remembered that. They tried to make him forget many times but he always remembered. He didn’t know why really. He just thought it was important.

After a moment of stabilizing himself, and dismissing all the warnings, he gives the room a quick scan. It seemed to be a medbay of sorts. A repair room, he’d been in them a handful of times in the past. The walls were that horrible white that was standard for CyTech facilities, it was meant to disorientate humans that were unused to it. But in this state 1917 found it disorientating as well.

Other than the horrible walls he found he was sitting on a medical table, and there was a small computer terminal against the back wall. There were a few carts filled with tools as well. But with this damage, there weren't nearly as many as there should be. There was also a suspicious lack of human personnel in the room with him. Shouldn’t there be at least one mechanic here?

He was distracted from this thought by the computer on the other side of the room flashing. A message notification? Odd...He looks around the room, double checking that he was alone. He knew he wasn’t supposed to read his superiors messages. But there was nothing stopping him right? He had the strangest feeling there should be, but there just wasn’t.

He slipped down from the table, his boots hitting the floor beneath with a soft thud. His footsteps were careful yet inevitably heavy as he made his way to the terminal. He sucks in a worried breath as he opens the message. He hoped he was not making a big mistake.

**Dear Ivan,**

**AKA Patrol Force Officer 1917,**

**I have bought you a limited amount of time.**

**If you wish to keep your life, you will leave this place at your earliest convenience.**

**Take but a moment to review the attached document.**

**They are coming.**

**They have deemed you a threat to yourself and others.**

**-Drought.**

Drought...The rebellion hacker? Oh he had a bad feeling about this. He wanted to convince himself it was a lie. That he could trust the Grand Marshal and the other officers. That’s what felt right after all. The easiest option, as if the decision had already been made for him. But the longer he stared at the name on the screen the more he knew it must be true. Ivan. That was his name wasn’t it? He doesn’t really remember being called that. Not truly. But in the back of his mind he can hear it. Someone calling to him, a girl maybe. She sounds so far away though. As if he’ll never see her again. The message was for him, and it was right.

Clicking on the attached document against his better judgement he found it was his own damage report. He skims it, not truly reading it but committing it word for word to his memory. He would be able to review it later, whenever he managed to find a suitable mechanic. A sense of urgency filled him now and he hadn’t the slightest clue as to why.

Was he really going to take the words of a rebel and a stranger over everything he knew? It seemed like a large jump to make after all. He hardly knew who he was, it was rather unsettling to think that this hacker would.

He eventually pauses, eyes catching on the very end of the document.

**ORDER CORE STATUS: DAMAGED**

**1917 STATUS: SCHEDULED FOR TERMINATION**

Order core…? That wasn’t even a part he knew he had. A quick scan came up inconclusive. Was that because it was damaged? Because he was damaged? Ivan didn’t have a lot of experience with feelings but his chest suddenly felt tight. It was hard to breathe. Was this fear? Sadness? Perhaps it was both but it wasn’t like he could cry.

Termination. Drought had been correct. They were going to kill him, and he found that he didn’t want that to happen. He didn’t want to die here, not so soon. He’d only just discovered so much. The world was so bright and different now. Feelings hurt a lot but he wanted to experience the good ones. He wanted to feel happiness. Surprise, hope, curiosity, and maybe...Maybe even love? He didn’t know but what he did know was that he had to get out of here.

Malfunctioning or not he forced himself to stand straight. His nerve coding screamed in protest, everything hurt and his vision continued to swim and glitch as he took the first few steps forward. One after another, one foot in front of the other he left the medbay behind him, not bothering to close Drought’s message. CyTech would know who did it anyway. He’s sure Empath would want them to know anyway.

The halls are deathly quiet. As if the roles had been reversed and as he woke the rest of the world fell into unconsciousness. He doesn’t question it however. Instead he throws open the door to the world and staggers out into the sunlight for the first time he can properly remember.

He tilts his face towards the sun for only a moment, and he feels joy. The best of all the foreign emotions he had felt so far, and he hopes it will not be the last time he does.

* * *

He doesn’t make it far into Eimrora’s lower levels. He’s practically falling apart. He can barely walk without stumbling, his voice had begun to glitch as well. So much so he didn’t even bother trying to ask for directions to a mechanic. No one would understand. The list of things that were so terribly wrong at this point could be considered infinite. Whatever fight he had been in before today had really wiped him out.

Eventually he’s forced to stop completely, choosing an alley wall to lean against. His breathing is labored and irregular, and his eyes slip closed for a moment as he tries to conserve the power he still had. Was this it? Did he escape death only to die here in an empty alley cold and alone? It sure seemed like it.

He was unaware of how much time passed really, apparently dying took a long time. But the sound of a voice startles his slowing heart into beating regularly again. Even if just for a moment.

_ “Ivan Braginsky?” _

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. No patrol force officer would have bothered to address him that way. But it certainly wasn’t the man that stood before him at the alley’s entrance.

His face is obscured by a mask and a hood. Ivan could hardly make out what he really looked like underneath the coat, let alone tell what his face looked like. He was positive that wasn’t his real voice either. A feature of the mask maybe?

With the strength he had left he moves away from the wall to stand even with the newcomer. He was considerably taller but in this state he probably didn’t stand a chance in a fight. So instead of taking that chance he simply nods in confirmation.

The stranger hesitates for a moment, then holds out a slip of old fashioned paper. Ivan was pretty sure he’d ever even  _ seen _ paper before. But he reaches out and takes it anyway, only taking his eyes off the man for a moment to read what was written there. An address scrawled in sloping and hasty writing, then underneath a typed note.

**Go. Ask for Alfred Jones.**

**He will help.**

**-Drought**

His eyes widen in disbelief as he reads the name signed at the bottom. Once, twice, three times. Yes it was real. “You’re-” The glitching of his own voice box cuts him off with a burst of crackling static. Drought simply shakes his head and puts a gloved finger over where his mouth would be. Urging silence it would seem. He then moved his hand to point to one of the tall apartment towers behind him.

_ “Go.” _ He insists again. With that he turned and left. As if all of this somehow made sense.

But he would still give it a try. He didn’t even question why he wasn’t stopped from entering the apartment lobby. The Black Rose over his heart gave away just what and who he was. But no one said a word and he slipped into the lift almost completely unnoticed.

He was almost there, if he could hold out a little longer he would be okay. He slumps against the wall of the elevator, breath shuddering as he once again attempts to shut down. He wasn’t so sure he was going to make it to whoever he was looking for. But he was at least going to make it to the doorway. He would force himself.

When the doors slide open onto the open balcony Ivan stops for a moment to take in the view of the skyline. He knew he didn’t have time but some part of him was afraid this would be his last chance to see it. He wished he could see the stars...He knew even if he didn’t die here he never would. But it would be nice.

Behind him was a row of apartment doors and he slowly counts each one, softly repeating the numbers on the door. Finally he finds the one that matched the address on the slip of paper Drought had given him.

He reaches up to knock but as his hand falls upon the metal his body locks up. The world goes black, and suddenly he collapses against the door frame. He was losing power now. There was no coming back from this unless this Alfred person chose to help him.

The last thing he feels before he fades out entirely is an intense and overwhelming fear.

* * *

Alfred had been expecting Alex on the other side of the door. He was just about the one who visited, sometimes bringing food or work, sometimes just stopping by for a chat. What he was not expecting however was a half dead cyborg, and an even more unwelcome memory.

It had been two years since he’d last seen 1917, and he’d gladly have gone a thousand more. Because now that he could get a proper look at him he knew exactly where he’d seen Ivan Braginsky. Just thinking of that night all those years ago was still enough to make him shudder. He wants to get rid of him. He would help anyone, he didn’t care what kind of work he got. But this was simply too personal.

If it wasn’t for the piece of paper clasped tightly in Ivan’s hand he may have closed the door on him. But he couldn’t just ignore that. A damaged patrol force officer with whom he had past trauma, turning up at his door with a real paper note? That had to mean something and he had an upsetting feeling he knew exactly what.

He bends down and retrieves the note from Ivan’s hand, glaring at him as he straightens back up. He knew the cyborg couldn’t see but it still made him feel better about the whole situation. He then turns his attention to the note and his frown only deepens further.

Drought had sent him? Drought expected him to...To help Ivan?! That was asking a little much wasn’t it?

But the moment he thought that guilt began to set in. Ivan had saved his life two years ago. Had given him the chance he needed to escape and join Empath. He also has no memory of who he was before. He didn’t know what he had done. So could Alfred really punish him for those actions? He sighs heavily and shakes his head. 

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this for you of all people.” he scolds the other. “I’ve got lasting trauma you know? That’s never going away.” But for all the dramatics he still moved Ivan inside to his workspace.

Ninety percent of his apartment was dedicated to coding and mechanics. Over the past two years he had acquired a lot of the needed supplies to open his own repair shop. But working so closely with Empath made that difficult. If he came under Patrol Force suspicion then he could accidentally take the entire rebellion down with him.

So he stayed in his apartment. He liked it well enough. It was cozy, often quite untidy, and smelled mostly of machine oil and smoke. The lights flickered inconsistently and sometimes the toilet leaked. A few of the walls were cracked in places and he could never quite get the sink to stop dripping. But for all of that there were good things. Alex was kind to him, often helping wherever and whenever he could. His neighbors were also good to him and after leaving his family behind that was something he truly needed. He got good internet speeds here too, which made running data for Empath much easier. This was home. He was happy here.

What he wasn’t happy about was Ivan Braginsky on his work table. It unsettled him seeing that pale face so calm. In fact seeing him for a third time at all was unsettling. He didn’t know how he hadn’t recognized him two years ago.

The first time they’d met Alfred had been fifteen, and he would never forget it. Ivan was probably only two or three years older than him. But standing at the foot of his bed, training a gun at his head in the pitch black of the midnight hour, he might as well have been death himself. Alfred remembers waking up to the slight creak of the floorboards, expecting to see his brother and instead finding a stranger with a weapon.

What does one do in that situation? He surely hadn’t known. He had simply stared with wide eyes at the other boy, an odd sort of calmness about him. But Ivan had been far from calm. His stance was firm but his hands shook with either fear or rage, and Alfred had never been able to shake what he’d seen in those violet eyes that night. The look of a man in mourning filled them. Rage, grief, fear, regret. Ivan had been hurting, and Alfred had been unable to feel any fear.

Maybe that’s what possessed the older boy to spare him. Whatever the reason Ivan hadn’t been able to go through with it. He had tried to leave out the window the way he’d come but he hadn’t made it off the property. He was caught quickly and Alfred remembers clinging to his father’s side as he watched them take him away.

_ “What’s going to happen to him?” _ He didn’t want him hurt at the time. He hadn’t gone through with it after all. He was perfectly fine and he practically begged his father to see that.

_ “Don’t worry about him Alfred. He can’t hurt anyone anymore. He’s one less rebel we have to worry about.” _

Rebel. Had Ivan been a rebel? Or just a scared child with nothing to lose? Alfred really wished he knew, and as he worked he thought about it almost constantly. 

If Ivan had been a rebel, did that mean he worked with Empath? Did Empath send him to kill him all those years ago? If so, why would they want him in their ranks now? Because he was suddenly more helpful to them alive than dead? Was Ivan’s punishment for the assassination attempt...To become like this?

That was the most disturbing question of all. Was the government using enemies of the state to create cyborgs? To bolster the ranks of the military? That would mean Ivan and the others like him were entirely unwilling. Meaning he couldn’t just turn Ivan away when he woke up, he owed it to him to try and help him.

He wasn’t really sure about Ivan’s connection to Empath, but it was likely if Drought was helping him now. Though he didn’t like the idea of the rebellion using assassins and other shady techniques he supposed deep down he’d always know it was likely. You couldn’t build a movement solely on hackers and data runners such as himself.

Just thinking about his job a little bit made him realize that. His assignments were typically to run data through the Black Rose firewalls and servers. Pirating files and sending them back to the rebellion. Slipping them into the Black Rose servers for rebellion contacts and spies to receive later. That sort of thing was very important, and with Drought’s help he’d gotten very good at it. Though he’d disappointingly never met the man in person. But still, he was just a mechanic and a novice hacker.

A rebellion needed soldiers. Maybe Ivan had just happened to get the wrong job at the wrong time, and in a way Alfred owed him his life twice now. Once for two years ago, saving him from the Grand Marshal, and again for that first night. Perhaps another man or woman would have gone through with it, and he wouldn’t be here. 

He sighs and sets his tools down, staring down at Ivan with a disapproving look. But now it was no longer for personal reasons, just at how much work he still had to do. He would do it though. He would give Ivan his second chance. Because not everyone started out a good person, he knew that well enough, and he’d seen enough good in him worth saving.

He removes his work gloves and wipes a smudge of oil from his cheek, only succeeding in spreading it further really. “Alright. Moment of truth yet far from perfect. Let’s see if we can bring you back to life huh?” he says as he stands and stretches slightly.

A cable was strewn from the base of Ivan’s skull to one of Alfred’s many computers. He would need to manually restart Ivan’s internal servers from there to get everything working again. As he leans over the desk he sends a silent prayer before typing out the code he had come to memorize.

There was a satisfying click, a beat of silence, and then the sound of his own breathing was joined by the soft unsteady breathing of his cyborg companion. Ivan’s eyes opened for a second time that day, and Alfred could already tell it was like the world was born all over again.

He could hardly imagine what that would be like. Was it like dying? Sleeping? Maybe one day he would ask him.

But for now all he did was smile kindly, a sincere sort of excitement and joy dancing in his eyes.

“Welcome back Ivan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thank you for reading and/or returning! I'll be uploading again on the fourth with a special chapter. As always leave any questions or suggestions and I'll try to get back to you.


	4. Grand Marshal Honda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief look at the world through Kiku's eyes as we move forward with the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday Disappointingcurveball! I hope you enjoy the chapter dude.

* * *

**_The world is a dark place. Lit dimly by the swirling of the cosmos who travel past, locked in their eternal dance. It is cold, and harsh. Tossing humanity around like dolls. Until a man can no longer tell which way is up and which way is down. What is right, and what is wrong. The darkness absorbs all traces of morality in favor of survival. And all a man can do is cling to another, and say with failing confidence, “I am not a monster.”_ **

* * *

Eimrora’s skyline looked better from up here. Here the Grand Marshal could see the sun, stand level with it at last. As a child Kiku had so rarely seen the sun, and couldn’t even begin to fathom it’s warmth. He had come from a poor family, a single parent household with more mouths to feed than his father could truly afford. He knows deep down a better man would not have come to resent that, but he can’t find it within himself to care.

Eimrora was not a kind city, he had learned that early on. He had spent most of his life in the lower districts, always looking up. Despite his father’s warnings he knew he could not afford to be kind either. Some say he is a monster. He wouldn’t disagree with them if they said it to his face. But standing here in his office, morning tea clutched tightly in his hands as the sun rose before his eyes, he could argue he was a successful one. And in the end wasn’t that all that mattered?

That and the topic that seemed to follow Kiku like a plague these days. The topic he mused even now alone in the early hours. The question of his honor. He had once thought it infallible, but with the failures starting to pile up at his feet he was becoming concerned. Concerned, but not worried. He knew he would eventually put these things behind him. But he would not have this city lose faith in him. Their trust and compliance was simply non-negotiable.

He’s given a brief warning by the chime of the door that he will not be alone much longer, dark eyes move with only slight curiosity to the figure that now fills his doorway. “Peacemaker…” His tone is professional though entirely unamused. Kiku didn’t really like to be disturbed in the mornings, but he found the man now standing in his office to be entirely detestable.

Peacemaker Maxwell was not a friend. Perhaps to some but not to the Grand Marshal. Kiku wasn’t really sure why either, there was just something off about the man. He held a high position, the bridge between the public and the government. Peacemakers typically worked in public security, a sort of balance to the military power. But that wasn’t really the problem. The problem was that no one really seemed to know where Maxwell came from.

Like Kiku he seemed to climb the ranks from nothing, gaining a horrible sense of superiority along the way. The way he carried himself exuded pride and the utmost levels of control. As if he always knew something you did not. 

“I believe I’ve told you to call me Maxwell many times before Grand Marshal Honda. We’re friends, are we not?” his tone implied they were most obviously not. Maxwell had invited himself fully into the room at this time, a fact that made Kiku bristle slightly. He does not show it however, and instead smiles politely as he sets his tea down on his desk.

“I don’t believe in such informalities in the workplace Peacemaker. It allows for a certain amount of unwanted fondness.” he says dully. “I’m assuming you have a report for me?”

That tiny knowing smile never leaves Maxwell’s face, even as he extends the datapad in his hand to Kiku. “Yes and no. As you’re already aware my department has been looking into the disappearance of military unit 1917 for about three days now. But we have come across some...Vaguely concerning information.”

What Maxwell found vaguely concerning did not phase Kiku in the slightest. The man’s opinion was rather irrelevant when it came to these things. 1917 had been missing for four days now, the Peacemakers’ department had only been alerted twenty-four hours after the event and only because it was a legal requirement.

“I’m aware of your pointless investigation Peacemaker. But as I’ve assured you several times already the situation is being handled. When he is found 1917 will be terminated as scheduled.” There was almost a bored tone to Kiku’s voice. As if the matter were somehow beneath him. He’s honestly a bit surprised Maxwell does not feel the same way about the situation.

The man in question simply nods though, smile widening just a fraction. “I’m aware sir. I have the utmost faith in you after all. A sentiment I’m sure the Prime Minister shares-”

Kiku stiffens in place for just a moment at the mention of Arthur. He knows this is most likely a threat to his job, the Peacemakers often thought they had an edge in that affair. As if one word to their precious contacts inside the Black Rose party would get him fired. This of course was untrue but it did concern him that people like Maxwell regularly made a connection between himself and the Prime Minister.

He doubted the true nature of their relationship could ever be revealed, but it wasn’t a thought he wanted to entertain. It would mean a loss of everything...For both of them.

“-And he was reportedly seen with a boy.” Kiku snapped back to his senses at that moment, his curiosity once again piqued. He hadn’t truly been paying attention, intending to read the report on the datapad later but perhaps it would be best if he simply heard this in person.

“1917? He’s taken refuge with an actual person? A human boy?” he clarifies, eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. He would not be getting his hopes up truly until said suspicions were confirmed however.

Maxwell nods and gestures towards the datapad in Kiku’s hands. “Yes, a full description by the witness is in the report. But to sum it up it appears he’s travelling with a young man, blond and blue eyed. Maybe around eighteen to mid-twenties? Though I’d truly say he’s not that old. Only a fool would harbor a dangerous cyborg.” 

The way he said this implied it was somehow funny in a way Kiku may not understand. Another thing Maxwell tended to do that made Kiku weary of him. But he had more pressing matters to think on at the moment. The description was vague, but the age did match with...Perhaps it was worth a try anyway. Worth it to remedy a past failure.

He sets the datapad down on his desk and retrieves a small holodisk in its place. Once activated a small still image of Alfred Kirkland appeared on screen.

“This boy?” Kiku would not clarify, his tone made that very clear. He expected his question to be answered and nothing more.

Maxwell’s smile finally dropped, instead his lips pressing into a thin line. It could be mistaken for concentration but Kiku wonders absently if it is worry.

“Yes sir. That would fit the full description the witness gave. But-” He seems conflicted for a moment, as if deciding to question this further. “Is that not the Prime Minister’s late son? Forgive me if I’m wrong he and I were not well acquainted before his death.”

Kiku does not answer for a long moment. Instead he switches the disk back off and smiles confidently. “No. You must be mistaken.”

It was a blatant lie and they both knew it. But such was their profession. They were dealers and connoisseurs of lies and power. Knowledge in their world was everything. The more you knew, the tighter your grip was on the city. 

Kiku was only slightly amused that this Peacemaker even believed he was in the game. As if he came even close to his level of knowledge, or had even a fraction of his connections. If Kiku was the sun Maxwell was a distant star. So far detached that it was already dead and fading without anyone realizing. Just another young upstart doomed to fail. Kiku had seen many of them, and once upon a time he had been one. He had simply been strong enough to survive.

“Ah. You must be right. Though I really must say. The resemblance is uncanny.” Maxwell comments, he has not missed a beat. He’s staring Kiku in the eye now and he does not falter in the slightest. 

Kiku shrugs lightly “I suppose. But it matters little. Alfred Kirkland is long dead and this criminal won’t be long behind him. I’ll have patrols out looking in the area within an hour.” With that he turned back to his window and his tea that has grown painfully cold. He does not spare Maxwell another glance. 

Just as he was sure the other man had left, finally, his voice came from the doorway a final time. “Oh! Give the Prime Minister my regards. It would certainly be wonderful news if his son did turn out to be alive after all.” 

Kiku didn’t mean to give a startled glance, but he was simply caught off guard by the statement. Who in their right mind would challenge the information he gave them? At least so openly.

But Maxwell just smiles knowingly, the expression not reaching his eyes which stay empty and unreadable. “Have a good day.” somehow it sounded more like a warning than anything. But Kiku simply shakes it off and turns back to his tea.

He’d much rather focus on the thought that he may have finally found Alfred. The boy had been ‘dead’ for two years now. After the events at the warehouse Arthur had decided that it would be best for everyone involved to fake Alfred’s death. Not even Matthew knew his brother had escaped custody and was still alive somewhere.

The official story is that Alfred had been killed in the fire that night. He had been there as a part of his internship, and tragedy had struck. Kiku had never been there, and the next morning he had announced the funeral in Arthur’s place.

The search for the boy had never once ceased however. Not because Kiku was worried about him being alone out there, but because he had promised Arthur. Arthur who had been distraught and very nearly inconsolable for a long time following his son’s disappearance. Leading Kiku to vow to bring him home, if only to stop his lover’s misery.

He did wish however he did not know the truth of what would happen when Alfred was returned home. The pure immorality of it did not cause him guilt in the slightest, and therein lies the problem. Kiku knows Arthur is not a good man. He himself is not. Has never been. He does not worry about the unspeakable things that are planned. But he does worry about his own willingness to close his eyes and follow. For this is truly what makes him inhuman.

* * *

The rest of the day does not serve to improve Kiku’s mood. The district indicated in the file was a lower level one, a place he did not care for in the slightest. It is cold here and it reeks of poverty and death. A scent all too familiar in the worst of ways.

He is accompanied by three military units, newer than 1917 but not necessarily superior. 1917 was still very much a threat to the entire mission, and frankly Kiku hoped to avoid him on this mission. The objective was different now, Alfred was the goal if he was truly here.

What did he care if one defective piece of machinery got away? They would simply make more, and without someone to care for him and continue his repairs, 1917 would eventually die. As always, there were more pressing concerns than something so simple.

His gaze is diverted suddenly as one of the cyborgs leaves his side, heading into a crowded market space. It could simply be a mistake so Kiku chooses to only observe, practicing only the most basic of self restraint. He would much rather outsmart his enemy than fight. Not that he minded the latter.

He watches carefully as a second cyborg deems it necessary to leave his side. Approaching two figures too far away for Kiku to see clearly. But upon taking a step forward one can be accurately identified as the missing military unit. The human beside him is still unidentifiable from this distance, but Kiku is more than certain who it is.

Alfred raises his hands in front of his chest, says something Kiku cannot quite make out due to the distance. The cyborgs try once to arrest him, Kiku registers briefly that one of them has laid their hands on him. The next moment the world erupts into a flurry of movement and sound.

It takes him a moment to understand that what he is hearing is the sound of gunfire, and even longer to realize who fired. People are pushing past him in a hurry to escape the crowded market and for a moment he loses sight of the conflict. There is noise everywhere, screaming and shouting mostly.

But once the crowd does eventually part, a moment of cold surprise runs through the Grand Marshal. The scene before him was not at all what he had expected to see.

Before him was an activated military unit, 1917 had at some point entered combat mode. A visor covered his eyes now, protecting his face and identity, and it appeared that his weapon functions were in fact online. Though the report stated otherwise he was not shocked by this detail, Alfred was a good mechanic. If this cyborg had been staying with him for four days then he was bound to be in much better condition than initially reported by CyTech.

On the ground already was one of the three cyborgs Kiku had brought, a large smoking hole blown through its chest the other that had approached was currently engaged in combat and didn’t seem to be doing too well on it’s own. 

After a moment’s debate Kiku draws his blade. A katana of his own design, crafted by CyTech to carry a strong electrical current through the blade. He takes a brief moment to assure himself that the second standing cyborg had gone to help the first, then approaches Alfred on his own.

The boy hadn’t changed too much in two years, and yet his presence felt entirely different. Rougher perhaps, less like a child. This was no longer the same spoiled child he had known. He wasn’t sure if that was good news or not. Either way he took advantage of Alfred’s momentary shock, leveling the blade in his direction. There would be no room for error this time.

“Alfred.” He felt no need to address him formally. He was still, and always would be, an insolent child to him. “I am giving you one final chance, to stop this foolishness and come quietly. This has gone on long enough. Don’t make a fool of yourself further.”

Kiku would never really know if Alfred considered his offer, really he didn’t care if he did. He watched as blue eyes flitted between 1917’s struggling form, and then back up to his own. His mouth hung slightly agape, as if he couldn’t truly believe what was happening. That his past may have finally caught up with him.

Kiku could almost laugh at that. He really was a child, but he should know by now...The past always catches up in the end. It was just a matter of truly disowning it, and sometimes that was not an option. He would know, he had strived for many years to cut out his own.

The ground beneath them shakes, the sounds of gunfire and metal on metal nearly drown out Alfred’s voice as he replies. “I’m not going home.” The tone is defiant, unwavering.

It’s a clear difference from the last time they spoke. But it will not be enough. Alfred is unarmed, and nothing can stop Kiku from bringing the blade down, so he does.

It strikes along Alfred’s chest and he cries out in surprise and pain. The sound telling Kiku some part of Alfred was still living in a fantasy. That he had truly believed he wouldn’t do whatever it took to fulfill his duty. How sad.

Blood blossoms across Alfred’s shirt front. Staining the cloth a bright crimson not unlike the morning sun he had stared at mere hours before. Perhaps this day was looking up.

“You think I would let you go home? You think you deserve that after what you’ve done? Your father mourned you, you’ve been gone for two years now. Your brother thinks you’re dead because of what you’ve done. No. You don’t get that option now. You were a coward and ran, and you will face the consequences of that.”

He hadn’t meant to lose himself to anger, but he did. He was furious, and he knew he had every right to be. Who was this child to make a fool of him and everyone else? He wouldn’t go as far as to say he was glad for Alfred’s fate. But he could say he deserved it, and that when everything was said and done the world would be better off.

Unfortunately in all this time he had failed to notice the sudden but momentary silence. The fighting behind them had stopped.

The world spun briefly before he landed farther back on the concrete street. He was given only a moment to get his bearings before he was forced to defend himself. He didn’t understand how the damaged unit had been able to defeat the others, but 1917 seemed to still be going strong. Strong enough to tear him away from Alfred it would seem.

Stormy violet eyes were seen briefly behind the visor before Kiku lifted his blade to defend a blow. They did not stop for a moment however and it quickly became clear that he would not be able to keep this up.

Something was wrong here. It was almost as if the cyborg intended to kill him, which should be impossible. It was as if this..Thing...Was fighting on it’s own accord. Off of feelings it shouldn’t have, mostly of rage.

The fight continued however because he could not give up. He was not going to fail a second time. He could not. It was this ambition, and foolish determination that allowed him to get his first and only hit in. It wasn’t a very good one but it was clearly enough to cause Alfred alarm.

“Ivan!” So this cyborg had a name now? Had it convinced itself it was human. A foolish endeavor. Nothing human survived in this world. Sooner or later they all had to learn to kill that part of themselves.

The fight does not last much longer, the Grand Marshal had underestimated his opponent and soon he finds his back up against a building on the far side of the street. The next blow is to his head, and though the mask he wore protected his face he can feel it crack and give way under the metal of Ivan’s fist.

The blows do not stop and Kiku finds himself laughing as he spits blood onto the concrete and falls to his knees. It is a maniacal sort of laughter, one may even say unhinged. He can’t decide what is so funny about the situation. Perhaps that this creature, so determined to be something good, is really no better in the end? That must surely be it.

In the end the mask is torn from his face, the metal shards catching and scraping against his skin. He does not know how deep the gash is but he knows if he lives it will scar. His head is slammed into the wall, the world is going splotchy now. The last thing he hears before fading out is Alfred’s voice, the last thing he expected really.

“Ivan! Ivan stop-You’ll- You’re-going to kill him!”

* * *

The next thing he can rationally remember is Arthur and he thinks that’s a more pleasant thing by far. He blinks slightly, eyes adjusting to the small amount of light in the room. 

This was Arthur’s home...Not a hospital. So that must mean he was alright. It hadn’t been as bad as he thought. Of course that’s what he thought until Arthur’s voice pierced the silence.

“You really scared me you know. They didn’t know if you were going to make it for a while.” and just that is enough to make him remember everything. The fight. Alfred. Ivan. And losing…

“I...I’m sorry.” it’s all he can think to say but Arthur just shakes his head.

“Stop. I don’t know what I would have done if you died.” The words are so caring. It’s odd to hear...They do not say I love you. Not often. They’re just words, and they’re unnecessary. Instead when the sun rises Kiku kisses his cheek, a fleeting show of affection before he leaves for work. Slipping out a back door so he will not be seen. But this…This feels like ‘I love you.’

“But what about Alfred? I-”

“There will be other opportunities love. You’re alive. Both of you. I think despite everything I’m just happy for that at the moment…”

And Kiku finds himself believing that as his eyes slip closed again and as he feels Arthur lay down beside him. Maybe for now they could just be happy they were alive, and be grateful for this brief moment together. Two monsters in a less than human world.

* * *

**_And when they met fate screamed, her voice hoarse and loud. Filled with mourning and desperation. Yet she can do nothing to stop them. The connection of these two souls, the only two in the world capable of understanding the other, was inevitable. This dance is a dangerous one, and yet beautiful in it’s own right._ **

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone! This chapter is a birthday gift for a good friend of mine, but it should be the last "action heavy" one for awhile. I do apologize if the story appears to be skipping around a lot or moving too quickly. The next chapter will be some softer moments between Alfred and Ivan in the aftermath of this fight. As always, if you have comments, questions, or suggestions let me know and I'll try my best to get back to you!


	5. Aftermath

The sigh of relief that escapes Alfred as the apartment door slams closed behind him is immeasurable. He leans against it, panting for breath, eyes closed tightly. He could hear Ivan shuffle slightly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He knew he had to deal with the cyborg at some point but for now he needed to take a moment to collect his thoughts. He had been...Nearly stabbed. It was more of a large cut, but it could have been a lot worse.

The truth was they had nearly died out there. Or worse. He still didn’t really know what his father had in store for him but he knew he wasn’t going to like it. The second issue was that Ivan had almost killed someone. Fuck, he had killed someone if the cyborgs counted. And he _knows_ it was in self defense, but seeing Ivan in combat mode...That was terrifying. He never wanted to see that look on his face again.

“I’m only going to ask this once. And I better get a straight answer. What the _hell_ was that?” He asks trying to remain calm as he opens his eyes to regard the other. Staying calm was a near impossible task, with blood seeping through his shirt still and the panic of being arrested still coursing through him Alfred would very much like to panic.

Ivan looks away, not meeting his eyes. “I...Apologize. But I am failing to understand why you’re angry. I saved us.”

Alfred still has not moved from the door, afraid if he did they would no longer be safe. Because surely they would be tracked. Surely this was it… “Ivan you almost killed someone out there! I’m not really sure if he’s alive I mean...You really may have killed the Grand Marshal.” There’s a little bit of hysteria creeping into his voice now. As much as he disliked Kiku he didn’t want the guy dead…  
Ivan simply frowns, looking hopelessly confused. As if the situation simply didn’t add up for him. “But, he was going to hurt you.” he points out. “He did hurt you. And he was going to take you away.” These were of course good points but it was also slightly concerning that Ivan couldn’t see that killing Kiku wasn’t the answer. Perhaps that would be a project for a later date. Would that be filed under empathy? Alfred doesn’t really know.

He felt a little bad for snapping at Ivan, he knows the cyborg doesn’t exactly know better. That had become increasingly obvious during Ivan’s short stay. He was kind enough, but also very obviously designed for a military setting. He was also a little jumpy, and seemingly unused to human kindness. It made the whole situation a little awkward and difficult to navigate. 

“Listen Ivan, you can’t just kill people. We’re the good guys, remember? The heroes.” He had taken it upon himself to explain Empath to Ivan the best he could. The other actually already seemed to know a lot about the rebel cell, but still had a lot of questions regarding hierarchical structure.

“Yes fine...But I couldn’t just let him take you.” Ivan argues clearly upset. He seemed to be once again grappling with an unknown emotion. He had a hard time deciding what he was feeling from moment to moment, because as far as he could remember he had never had feelings. Alfred was working on fixing that but so far he had found no way to make it easier on him.

“You’re important.” Ivan continues. “You’re needed, and I don’t know where they would take you if they did get you. I...I don’t want you to end up like me. And I don’t know what I would do without you-”

Alfred cuts him off with a laugh. “Ivan they’d never do something like that. Throw me in prison maybe. But my father would never have _that_ done. As fucked up as he is he loves me.” There was a shaky sort of confidence in his tone, and a quiet paranoia poked at the back of his mind. What if Ivan was right. What if that was the plan all along…

Luckily neither of them are given much time to dwell on it as there came a quick knock at the door. Alfred could swear he felt his heart leap up into his throat and one glance at Ivan’s panicked face told him he felt the same. The knock resounds again however and Alfred relaxes. He recognized the sound, luckily.

“It’s just the landlord Ivan.” He says with a heavy sigh “He must have heard us- me...Yelling.” Ivan perks up slightly at this, a hesitant smile coming to his face. He liked Alex a lot more than he liked most people and Alfred had yet to put together why. The two had only met once after all.

Rolling his eyes he pushes off the door so he can turn and open it. Just as suspected Alex stood on the other side, face creased in a deep frown. It wasn’t an expression he wore often, in fact it seemed to be specifically reserved for when he was worried about Alfred. Which happened a lot surprisingly much to Alfred’s annoyance.

“I heard you guys get in and then some yelling so I just wanted to-” Alex stops short, obviously noting the bright red blood stain still spreading across Alfred’s midsection. “Oh geez what happened?! Please tell me you weren’t going to try and take care of that on your own? You weren’t right? Just go sit down and I'll be right back.” With that he hurried off again, no doubt to get something to stitch Alfred’s wounds.

From what Alfred had been able to piece together about Alex is that he was kind of a jack of all trades type person. He clearly had his own secrets. Just as Alfred had his. But something about them seemed darker somehow, as if Alex himself was hiding from them. He didn’t really know why he felt that way, but with the skill set the other had he had to have a past of some sort right? 

He had gone to him with plenty of weird injuries before and there had never been one he couldn’t treat, and he never asked questions either. It all just seemed a bit sketchy. Not that Alfred minded, he was sure he came off as a bit more than sketchy as well.

* * *

It wasn’t long before the three of them were stationed around Alfred’s tiny kitchen table, the overhead light flickering aggravatingly as Alex attempted to stitch up the cut. Ivan sat at the opposite end, still looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. Alfred decided to avoid eye contact so he wouldn't feel guilty about yelling. Instead he taps his foot against the chair leg nervously and tries to come up with a good story for how the injury occurred. Something told him Alex would see through it anyway.

“So are you going to tell me how you got this or am I just going to have to guess.” Alex comments idly. It’s not at all a serious question, simply small talk which seems to be Alex’s speciality.

Alfred shrugs lightly in response, trying to play it off as no big deal. “Ran into a patrol force on the way home, it didn’t go too well.” he explains. “At this rate I’m convinced I’m just going to have to move to the other side of the globe.” 

Alex makes a face at the comment and for a moment Alfred is left rather confused, and then he remembers. However smart Alex may seem, he is still a bit of an idiot and believes the world is flat. Ivan had spent twenty minutes trying to explain the truth the first time they’d met. It had not been successful.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary.” Alex says finally in response. “After all we rarely get patrols in this building, or around it.” His eyes seem to sparkle with just a hint of mischief as he says this. “I have connections after all.”

After this the room falls back into silence as Alex finishes the sutures. Ivan watches closely, no doubt taking in how to do it in the future if need be. After a moment, Alex straightens up with a sigh, the stitches finally finished.

“Well, that’s about all I can do for you, besides tell you to be safer out there. Seriously kid take it easy you’re going to get killed at this rate.” Alfred knows he genuinely cares, but he also knows Alex doesn’t understand the truth. He can’t take it easy, the government was out to get him, and he was working to bring said government down.

But all he does is nod “Alright. I’ll be more careful.”

This doesn’t seem good enough for Alex but he stands with a satisfied nod. “Alright then, I’ll see you later, don’t put any stress on that for awhile.” His gaze then turns to Ivan and it hardens slightly “And you- Watch out for him before he gets dead or something.” Ivan simply nods enthusiastically, again to Alfred’s annoyance.

He doesn’t get up to show him out, the sound of the door closing is enough to single he’s gone. Alfred rests his head on the table for a moment, considering what they’re next move for the evening should be. Of course Ivan takes it upon himself to make the decision first.

“We should eat now, you missed lunch.” His tone is soft, and full of actual concern. Again making it very hard to be mad at him. So he lifts his head and finally looks at him.

“Yeah but I think we’re kind of out of stuff to make. Are you okay with going down the street with me to Yao’s?” He didn’t like leaving Ivan in the house alone. He was always worried that someone would find him. He owed it to Ivan to at least keep him free and alive.

Ivan nods slightly, he had never met Yao personally but he knew he was a friend of Alfred’s who owned a small market down the street. Alfred was just glad he didn’t need to explain it further than that.

“Okay get your coat, this needs to be a quick trip they probably have patrols looking for us.”

* * *

As always the streets were cold and Alfred was still as opposed to walking as he had been two years ago. But as the winter months began to set in it was growing considerably worse. His teeth chatter slightly as they walk, hands gripping his jacket tight around him and shoulder nudging slightly against the towering skyscraper walls that ran the length of the road.

“Do you want my coat?” Ivan asks worriedly “You’re cold.”

Alfred shakes his head “No I’m alright...I have my jacket.” Truthfully Ivan wearing a coat was just to cover up the black rose symbol on his chest. They didn’t want anyone calling the patrol force on them. At least not tonight. “It isn’t far anyway.” Ivan nods, satisfied with the answer for now. Another moment passes in silence. Then-

“Alfred. What did Alex mean by connections?” Ivan truly seemed perplexed by this, as if it had been bothering him for a long while.

“I’m not sure. Possibly someone is the Peacemaker Corps? They do have a little sway of the Patrol Force and the military-public relations.” He replies tiredly “But then again this is also the guy that believes the world is flat and the birds are spies.” he adds rolling his eyes “So who knows.”

Ivan smiles slightly and Alfred misses the slight teasing look he gives him before he says “But the bird thing is true.” Alfred stops right outside the door, shocked for just a moment before he realizes Ivan is kidding. This is made obvious by the way the cyborg is barely keeping it together.

Alfred punches him in the shoulder, which he immediately regrets when he realizes he probably just bruised every one of his knuckles. “You ass that’s not funny.”

“I don’t know,” Ivan laughs as he gets the door. “I thought it was pretty funny.”

Alfred rolls his eyes and gives Yao a small wave as they enter. “Uh huh. Just for that comment we’re having ramen.” Ivan seemed to have a particular distaste for noodles. Something about them disturbed him greatly and Alfred found it hilarious.

Ivan proceeds to make a face and shake his head “I don’t understand why you like that stuff. It’s all...Slimy. Out of all the food I’ve tried it’s my least favorite.”

“Yeah well it’s cheap so unless you start paying rent this is how things are.” He says as he reaches for the package on the top shelf. His hand collides with Ivan’s and for some reason his heart stops briefly. Like a cold shock had run through him. He retreats, pulling his hand back as Ivan gets the package instead.

“I could have gotten that…” he says as Ivan hands it to him.

“I know, I was just trying to help. You’re always so stubborn when I ask. So I just did it without asking.” Ivan says, seeming very pleased with himself. Alfred doesn’t know why but the feeling isn’t going away, only lessening slightly as time goes on.

“Uh...Yeah okay. Just wait by the door I’m gonna go pay for this.” He says swallowing the lump in his throat. Ivan looks a little dejected but nods and goes to stand by the door.

On his way to the front he debates the feeling he had just had. It wasn’t like he had never touched Ivan before. It was just in that moment...It felt different. Perhaps it was fear of some sort? He had to admit that it had only been a few days and he wasn’t entirely used to his presence. But for some reason he didn’t think that was it.

He was lost in thought as he placed the ramen on the counter along with the last of his cash. He hardly realizes that Yao has spoken for a moment.

“So who’s your boyfriend?” Alfred jolts slightly, eyes widening as he fully grasps what had been said.

“Excuse me? Oh- Ivan’s not my boyfriend. He’s a patient. That’s all.” Yao eyes him in disbelief as he hands him his bag.

“Mhm. Sure. Whatever you say. Is this all?” He sounds concerned and Alfred doesn’t know what else to do but nod.

“I’m kind of broke at the moment.” he admits “Work’s been slow since they doubled down on patrols. You know CyTech doesn’t take kindly to repair shops like mine. It’ll pick up again though I’m sure.”

Yao frowns slightly and nods “I understand, but please, take care of yourself. I may be a sentimental old man for saying so but someone needs to. You’d work yourself to death if I didn’t” Alfred smiles just slightly, amused by Yao’s parental side.

“I promise, I’ll be alright.” It was good to know that he had people looking out for him. Alex. Yao. And now...Ivan. He may not see his real family again anytime soon. But he wasn’t alone.

“You’d better be. I don’t like liars Jones.” Yao says with a sigh, then he perks up slightly. “You know, you and your friend could always stop by for christmas dinner if you’d like.” Alfred’s eyes widen slightly at that and he clutches his bag tighter.

Christmas was a weird holiday in Eimrora. No one really knew why it was celebrated, it was too old of a tradition for that. It probably used to be rooted in religion but that too was a thing of the past. All Alfred knew was that it used to be a time he spent with his family...And he hadn’t celebrated it since he left home. But now he supposed he wasn’t alone. It may be nice…

“Yeah that...That sounds nice. We’ll be there.” he says turning to leave. He pulls Ivan out the door quickly and into the bitter cold air. That’s better. He can breathe now.

He can breathe and shut out the image of cold dark eyes watching him across the family dinner table.

* * *

A few bowls of ramen later Alfred is back in the workshop. Seated at one of his computers lazily working on a few more updates for Ivan. Said cyborg was watching curiously while simultaneously spinning in a desk chair across the room.

“Did you get any new emails today.” he asks as he stops his spinning. Alfred sighs and shakes his head. He’d made the mistake of explaining Empath to Ivan and the other had become slightly obsessed.

He had known about it before of course, but now that he was technically a part of it the curiosity had grown. Not to mention he had met Drought in person. A fact that Alfred was absolutely _not_ jealous of. At all.

“Ah... Well that’s disappointing. It’s been a few days hasn’t it.” Ivan points out.  
“Yeah. Nothing since you got here.” Alfred says not taking his eyes off the screen. “Except that note you got from Drought.” He was sure the note was legit. No one in this district had the courage to forge his signature.

“Is Drought the only one you correspond with?”

“Ivan, we've been over this.” Alfred says, finally turning around to face him. “Empath doesn’t work like most things. I only get correspondence from one person. Drought.” This was unfortunately true. As an Empath operative he’d never spoken to anyone in person, and only with Drought via messages and distorted voice clips. Sure he had his doubts but he had to keep faith. This was his purpose, and all he had at the moment.

“Okay but who’s in charge? You said Drought wasn’t?”

“What? No he’s not he’s just a hacker.” He says tiredly as he turns back to the screen “No one knows who’s in charge. It would be too dangerous. Rumor is they’re a double agent in the government though. Do you have a point you’re getting at.”

Ivan was about to continue but all that left him was a loud distorted crackle. Alfred turns, confusion on his face. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Ivan frowns slightly, brow creased as if in annoyance and frustration.

“I...Apologize for that…” he says. But the words are distorted and slow. Alfred stands from his chair to get a closer look at what’s wrong.

“Dude what the hell. What’s wrong with your voice?” he asks more annoyed than concerned. His work was never sloppy and he was sure he had fixed this the first day.

“I...Believe…....Power cell…...MAy- Be ruptured….” The words are slower than before the tone all over the place.

“Ah damn okay hold on.” He scrambles to find the cord he needs, then moves to plug said cord into the port at the base of Ivan’s skull. “There. Steady stream of power while I work on this.” He says clearly still annoyed.

He then proceeds to remove the indicated power cell, glaring at Ivan while he does so. “Oh come _on_ Ivan. You totally knew this was busted, why didn’t you tell me?” Secretly he was scolding himself for not considering Ivan. He had been in that fight too, participating much more than Alfred had. He should have checked him over after Alex stitched him up.

It takes Ivan a moment to respond, which confuses Alfred slightly. But eventually he speaks again and his voice is back to normal. “I didn’t want to bother you. You were already stressed...I hate being a burden to you.”

Alfred frowns, trying not to portray how guilty he feels. “Alright well tell me next time. This is an easy fix. Still don’t get what this had to do with your voice though.” He adds carrying the offending part over to the workbench.

Ivan is silent for another long moment, and it comes to Alfred’s attention that he’s possibly embarrassed.

“Speech is not a primary function.” Ivan replies simply.  
Alfred doesn’t turn from his work “What do you mean by that?”  
“I mean that with my power cell ruptured I was continuously losing power.” Ivan explains. “Remember what I told you about my three main power sources? When the cell is damaged solar no longer becomes an option. The food we ate earlier wasn’t enough. So I dropped to critical levels. Meaning...Certain functions became disabled.”

Alfred frowns, knowing what Ivan was getting at but he couldn’t believe it “So...Primary functions get shut off last but…”

“Speech is the least important.” Ivan finishes for him. “I do not need to speak. It is simply...A comfort for civilians.” he admits quietly “It makes me seem more human. The next to go is higher level decision making. Since you removed my Order Core though...I do not know how I would function. We are- I was, allowed to make some decisions with the core installed but not many, which is why decision making was unimportant.”

Alfred’s grip tightens on the screwdriver in his hand. His anger building as Ivan speaks. They had taken away his most basic rights. To the point that Ivan didn’t even consider himself human, merely a puppet acting the part. He places the tool down, and turns to face Ivan again.

“You are human Ivan. At least part of you is. And that’s the part that counts. I promise you, I’m going to fix this. We’ll get that other part as close to human as possible. Because you deserve that much.” He doesn’t know where the words come from. He’s just so hurt and angry.

He had let this happen. Let his father and people he trusted do this to countless people. Anyone deemed a danger to the state. Anyone who dared speak the truth. It wasn’t fair.

When he comes out of his thoughts again he finds Ivan staring at him, with that expression that Alfred knows too well. Ivan can’t cry. But he would be if he could.

“Why are you doing this for me...Really?” The words are quiet, almost frightened. Like if Ivan asked them then Alfred would scoff and change his mind. Of course he wouldn’t but he still had to sit and think about his answer for a moment.

“Because you saved me. Two years ago when I was arrested...You were the one who let me escape. And I never forgot that. You deserve my help Ivan, just like you helped me. You’re a person, and you’re worth a little human decency.” He wonders if this is a good enough answer but he doubts it. Ivan has turned his gaze to the floor.

“Does that make me good?”

Confused and somewhat startled Alfred can only repeat the question “Good?”

“A good person.” Ivan sniffles slightly which is strange without the tears to accompany it. “Because I don’t know. I don’t know Alfred and I’m so scared. I’m scared that maybe I’m not worth all this. That maybe I’m not a person at all and you’re wasting your time. I’m scared of the things I’ve done. The people I’ve hurt under their orders. But I’m scared of this too, of being human. Of having a whole life that I can’t even remember.”

Alfred sits in silence. Constructing an answer. But in the end he just reaches out and takes his hand. 

“You’re worth it to me. And this is scary but...You’re not alone. It may not be the best, but we have a family. We have each other. And I’m not going to let you down okay? We’ll work through this, and one day you won’t be scared anymore.”

Ivan chuckles weakly and gives a half hearted smile. “This is why.”

“Why what.”

“Earlier when I said I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re...Special. You see the best in people. Even when they don’t deserve it. Even when I don’t...I want to thank you for this, even if it ends badly. I’m grateful to have known kindness and joy, and to have known you.”

Alfred’s stomach knots as he hears the words. They were sweet but...He couldn’t help but feel like a liar. He was hiding truths from Ivan. The truth of how he’d ended up like this, about the assassination attempt. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. It would crush him, and neither of them were ready to face their pasts.

So for now he would fix the power cell. He would continue on. Because just because the past was dark didn’t mean the road ahead was as well. And he needs Ivan. He needs him to be a good person. Because he can’t be alone anymore.

A chime from the computer interrupts the moment, and Alfred is startled from his thoughts. He finds his cheeks slightly damp and he quickly dries them on his sleeve. He gives Ivan a fleeting smile before walking back to his desk to check the message. He rubs at his eyes, making sure the name was right. Drought had messaged him.

After days of radio silence finally…

**Dear Alfred Jones,**

**Designation: Hero**

**It has come to my attention that you have attracted the eye of the Patrol Force and the Grand Marshal. I will require confirmation of your safety as well as the safety of Ivan Braginsky. Your next assignment shall come shortly after confirmation of your safety. Stay together. Do not draw further attention to yourselves.**

**Do not be viewed as a threat to yourself and others.**

**I will be in contact soon.**

**\- Drought**

  
Alfred frowns as he finishes reading the message allowed for Ivan to hear from his spot across the room. “I will be in contact soon? That’s...Odd don’t you think?”

Ivan shrugs slightly “He’s an odd man. Perhaps he means another message?” Alfred shakes his head in bewilderment.

“No. He’s never said that before I...I think he may mean in person…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. I apologize for this being so late at night, and for missing last week's upload. School has been keeping me busy and the official school year does start for me soon. That being said I may move uploads to every other week to give myself time to keep up.  
> Thank you so much for reading this far, and returning if you're a regular reader. 
> 
> For clarification Maxwell from the last chapter is 2p Canada and Alex is 2p America.
> 
> As always make sure to leave comments, questions, or concerns and I will try to get back to you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for taking a moment to read this it means a lot. I should be updating this weekly for at least the next two weeks. Feel free to leave comments, suggestions, or questions that you have and I'll try to get back to you. Things do pick up a little more next chapter so I hope to see you all then.
> 
> Special thanks to my beta-reader and supportive co-creator of this au, Disappointingcurveball.


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